Chapter 8: Two Holmes's in Baker Street

'Sherlock?'

Alice knocked on the door and looked past it. She saw her father lying on the couch of his new apartment at 221B Baker Street. It was 7 in the morning, but Alice had always been an early bird. So it seemed was her father. Or he had just never gone to bed. Sherlock didn't look up when Alice entered the room. His hands were placed underneath his chin. His eyes were closed. Alice smiled when she saw him. He was thinking, that was for sure. She walked through the apartment and noticed that the table in the kitchen was packed with Sherlock's new and improved home laboratory. His papers were scattered across the tables, chairs and on the floor. They had a system. The wood of little table between the windows was not even visible underneath the enormous pile of files and books. The bookcases were filled with books again, still neatly placed on their shelves. The mantle was now the home of the skull and the knife, though it was still lying on the mantle instead of stabbing papers. She saw the bull skull with the headphones hanging on the wall and smiled widely. Then she looked back at her father, who was still lying there with his eyes closed. Alice turned around and walked towards the small table that was standing alone in the middle of the room. She looked into the kitchen, at all the new experiments Sherlock had set up during the night. He had never gone to bed. She put down the tray she had brought from downstairs and poured the tea into a cup. There was toast, a few slices of bacon and some scrambled eggs on a plate. She looked back and smiled again, her father had heard her, but he tried very hard to not show it by remaining deep in thought. Not expecting a single word from him, Alice walked back towards the door, but before she could go down one step of the stairs she heard a soft:

'Thank you.'

More and more her father was opening up to her, even if it was in his own particular manner.

A few days later and Alice was reading a book from one of her father's shelves, not that she had found it on a shelf though. Even though it wasn't her apartment, Alice spent a lot of time with Sherlock's books or in his laboratory. Ever since she had met him, her interest for the chemical sciences had piqued, something her father admired greatly, the table in the kitchen was stacked with chemicals, microscopes and other things, leaving barely any room to eat. When he was gone, Alice would play the violin or just read in her newly bought, though second hand, chair. On the second day after his move to Baker Street Sherlock had taken Alice into town with a goal. He needed to fill the void in front of the hearth. They had ended up in a high end store where Sherlock's eye had been caught by a plain and simple grey leather chair. It had not taken long before Alice was exchanging the money and the address of 221B Baker Street was given to deliver the chair to. Alice on the other hand had found her perfect chair in a little second hand shop. It had been in the shop window and the woman behind the counter had initially refused to sell it. A little deduction on the advantages of selling the chair and a redecoration of the shop window had however changed her mind.

'A scarlet chair for a Scarlet girl.'

Alice had smiled at Sherlock's attempt at humour once they had hoisted the chair up the stairs and placed it next to the hearth. The day after their shopping trip, Sherlock's chair had arrived and was placed opposite the red ragged chair. That evening, Sherlock had played on his violin for hours on end, with Alice just listening. In the days to follow she would either do that, or reading, or send her mother the occasional text that everything was going splendidly and that there was no reason to be worried. Or she would play, when Sherlock was too busy thinking. The nicotine patches were a great finding, but there was a flipside on them, since Sherlock now used multiple at the same time in order to "think properly" as he would call it. When she saw her father put on his coat and dark blue scarf, she looked up. She had given him the scarf for his birthday two weeks earlier, when he was still living in his old home in Montague Street. Sherlock had no idea that she knew when that was and was therefore very surprised. He wore it all the time ever since. Alice watched him.

'Don't forget to text. I want to know if I'm right.'

Sherlock smiled, they had been investigating a case together. Whenever people came to Sherlock with their problems, she was either in the kitchen or downstairs, but never with him. Like she did not exist. She had her own life too and Sherlock liked it that way. But often he would involve her in his thought processes which often led to new insights on both sides. Sherlock turned around and walked down the 17 steps that led to 221B Baker street. He slammed the door shut behind him, clearly audible from upstairs. That was Alice's signal. She smiled and put the book down. She stood up and walked towards one of the windows looking out on Baker Street, watching Sherlock hail a cab. Before he got in, Sherlock looked up and saw Alice looking at him. After a moment, Sherlock disappeared in a cab and the cabbie drove away. Alice remained in the same position for a while. She liked looking out on the street. Watch the people pass by. Read them within seconds. Create profiles for her own personal database. Sherlock was meeting up with a colleague of his, Mike Stamford, who taught medical students at St. Bart's hospital. Sherlock could ask Mike if he knew someone to become Sherlock's flatmate, because even though he liked Alice around, she knew he wanted someone else to be his assistant on his cases. Someone normal. Someone who could translate the world to him, and who could in turn translate him to normal people. Alice was to smart for that, something Sherlock would never tell her to her face, but she knew it already. After the meeting, Sherlock would go to St. Barts Hospital to do some experiments on a corpse. He had been doing that for quite some time now, and the only reason he was allowed to do it was because some of the employees let him. A week earlier, two days before Sherlock would move to Baker Street, Alice had joined her father on one of his trips to the morgue. A young woman had approached Sherlock with eyes like a doe and a smile that screamed: "I love you". Apparently she was the morgue attendant who had let Sherlock do his experiments all this time, and Alice could clearly see why she would let this person lacking a medical degree, experiment on her bodies. She had introduced herself as Molly Hooper, and throughout the three hours Alice and Sherlock had done experiments in the morgue and in the lab, Molly had constantly looked at Alice as if she was some sort of threat. She had asked Sherlock multiple questions, and all of those had been answered in a short, almost harsh manner. Poor girl, she was trying so hard to get his attention and become more than just colleagues. He didn't notice it. Too focussed on his work, not paying attention to the feelings of this young woman, though she was so easy to read for Alice. She didn't bother telling her father. He'd have to find out for himself, she was not going to help him with his love life, she knew better than to get him a girlfriend, when her father considered himself married to his work. Work for which he wanted an assistant. Not Molly Hooper. Not Alice Holmes. A male assistant, quite possibly. For more reasons than one. If he could find it in his heart to open up to him. When Alice turned around, she saw Mrs. Hudson, standing in the doorway.

'You like it here don't you dear.'

Alice nodded.

'I do Mrs. Hudson.'

Mrs. Hudson just smiled, Alice's face saddened.

'But I am sure that pretty soon he will have a new companion who can sit in my chair. Who can accompany him on his trips and who can spend time with him.'

Mrs. Hudson nodded.

'But he'll never forget you dear.'

Alice looked Mrs. Hudson straight in the eye.

'I know he won't, it will just be less than before.'

Mrs. Hudson stood up straight.

'Good girl, and you are completely right. Come now, I need your help.'

Late in the afternoon and Alice was walking around cleaning her room. The music playing as loud as possible for it not to be heard in the restaurant. Her hands and apron were dirty from all the sandwiches and pies she had made during the day. She spent her entire day in the kitchen of Speedy's, creating everything that Mrs. Hudson would in turn sell to the costumers in the front. She heard a soft knock on the door and put down the things she was holding, walking towards her phone to turn the music off.

'Come in.'

Expecting to see Mrs. Hudson, she was surprised to see Sherlock in the doorway. His face straight. He was still wearing his coat and scarf. He had just come in.

'Can we talk?'

Alice nodded and took off her apron. Sherlock came in and took off his coat and scarf. They both sat down.

'I found a flatmate.'

Alice nodded.

'OK.'

Her father looked at her, clearly searching a reaction that wasn't going to come. Alice knew her father would quickly find a flatmate, even though he was a hard person to share a flat with.

'Who is he?'

Alice looked at her father with a straight face, like his. But his sternness had been cracked. A little shimmer of worry was coming through. Always the worry, as if he was scared that she was becoming more like him.

'Sherlock, don't worry, talk. Who is he?'

Sherlock seemed to regain his composure and looked at Alice, who was now smiling a little.

'Dr. John Watson, army doctor.'

'Afghanistan or Iraq?'

Sherlock smiled when he heard his daughter's question, which had come out of nowhere and sounded like how he had said it a few hours ago.

'Afghanistan. Psycho sematic limp. Has recently returned from service. Has a drinking brother who walked out on his wife.'

'And all of this you deduced from his phone and the way he handed it to you.'

Sherlock grinned.

'And you know this how?'

Alice smiled and took out her phone, and she showed her father the text she got at 1.43 from an unknown number. It had been sent to both her and a Detective Inspector Grayson and it said:

If brother has green ladder

arrest brother

SH

Sherlock smirked. he could have known that Alice would link the unknown number to the man he had met a couple of hours ago in the laboratory of St Bart's Hospital. And the only reason he had send her that message was because she was the one who had given him the final and crucial clue when she looked into his microscope for a quick glance one night. She actually knew a lot about crime solving and liked it just as much as he did, though they had never visited a crime scene together, yet.

'Of course.'

Alice smiled back at her father, then she rose, under the watchful eye of Sherlock.

'So, do you think he is up for a challenge?'

Sherlock nodded, something Alice saw from the corner of her eye. She would watch from a distance and help with texts and all that where she could. But her father would go and live his own life, without her by his side every step of the way. Not that that had ever happened, but now he would have this John Watson to help him, a man she did not know yet, but she would, eventually. Until the time her father would introduce them to each other, she would look on from a distance. That night the father and daughter had dinner together in Alice's little studio, in total silence. It did not matter. Sherlock suddenly opens his mouth.

'Alice, you asked me a couple of months ago in Angelo's whether I...'

Alice looks up and stops her father's speech.

'You didn't want to tell me then, I get that.'

Sherlock nodded.

'I know. I just... '

Alice looked at him and sees how hard he was trying to say something, but the words just didn't come out. The insecurity and doubt werevisible in his eyes and she noticed the helplessness in all his movements and behaviour.

'Breathe.'

Sherlock focused on Alice's eyes and saw her smile. He closes his eyes and took a breath. Then he opened his eyes again.

'I don't know whether I am gay or not, I never thought I would have to think about it. I am not someone to make contact with another person, let alone...'

There he stopped again, Alice just looked at him. She was not at all surprised with the answer.

'I get it. Don't worry.'

Sherlock looked straight at Alice again.

'I know you do.'

After dinner, Sherlock rose up to leave, Alice had already left the table and turned on the music to do the dishes. In the mean time, she read the newspaper. Sherlock listened to the music for a while, looking at the phone.

'You can't do without music can you?'

Alice shook her head. Her hands didn't stop. Her eyes continued to read.

'You should really ask Lestrade why he hasn't come to you already. This is the third suspicious suicide in a short amount of time.'

Sherlock looked up from the phone and walked towards Alice. He read the article as well and nodded.

'He'll come. When he is most desperate.'

Alice looked up at her father, who continued to talk.

'And then I will have another big case on my hands, at last.'

Alice smiled.

'Maybe the first one with Dr. Watson.'

Sherlock looked up, a little surprised, he was still considering to bring Alice along for this case. Without saying another word though, he turned around and walked towards the door. Before he could leave however, Alice turned around to look at him, drying her hands with the towel.

'Do not look far, the answer to this is already in your reach.'

Sherlock turned around, a little confused, but then he nodded. Sometimes he had no idea what she was talking about, but maybe that was because she was a little quicker, sometimes solving cases days before he did so himself. She would never boast about it though. She smiled at the confused look in her father's eyes.

'And as for Dr. Watson, try to open up to him. Do not hold your feelings back and try to be as normal as you can. Otherwise you might lose him, not everyone sticks around like me and your brother dear.'

Sherlock smirked nodded yet again.

'I will try.'

Alice smiled.

'And should you ever need the silence and room to think away from 221B, "Studio" is always open.'

Sherlock smiled.

'I know, the same goes for B, should "Studio" become to silent.'

Alice nodded and Sherlock did the same.

'Goodnight dad.'

Sherlock smiled and picks up his coat and scarf, which he had almost forgotten.

'Goodnight... Alice.'